


Captains and Kapok or "Sheridan Can Get Stuffed!"

by Morgan (morgan32)



Category: Babylon 5, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Crack Fic, Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-24
Updated: 2009-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A light-hearted look at the fate of <em>that</em> teddy bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captains and Kapok or "Sheridan Can Get Stuffed!"

#### Stardate 49292.6  
Somewhere in the Gamma Quadrant

_"When it is destined to be found, it will be."_  
Worf

Abandoned, never to be seen or held again in this universe, an ancient Klingon bat'telh is spinning endlessly through space. Well, not space, exactly: there's a bit of cosmic dust, some warp particles left from the departure of the runabout that left the bat'telh here, the faint energy signature of a transporter beam. But, basically, space.

It's just a weapon, this bat'telh; it has no consciousness, no memory. If it had memory, it would, in good Klingon style, be exalting still the joys of battle. It has been used recently, in Klingon hands, to kill. Of course, its memory would be much longer than this: the bat'telh is some 1,400 years old. It is the Sword of Kahless, the first bat'telh, forged by the original emperor himself.

Its interminable journey through the Gamma Quadrant is about to end, however. As one of those annoying space phenomena that always seem to crop up when most convenient (sorry, unexpected) is about to grab the legendary bat'telh and, for reasons totally unknown, will transport the damn thing, not merely back on time, but into another, rather different universe...

***

#### Earth year 2259  
Somewhere near Epsilon 3

Abandoned, deliberately and most cruelly; banished into cold vacuum, a small furry bundle of fabric and cotton stuffing is spinning endlessly through space. Well, not endlessly, actually, that's going to change in a moment. But "endlessly" is what it's supposed to be.

It's a teddy bear, of course, it's thin shirt, delicately embroidered with the initials which condemned it to this ignominious fate providing poor protection from the ravages of space. The bear, like the above mentioned weapon had, has no feelings, no memory. Unfortunately, since this universe is already dangerous enough, this is about to change.

You've guessed it. That space anomaly, the one we left in the Gamma Quadrant in another universe, has just shown up here. It popped into existence: a great swirly thing about a metre wide and caught the poor teddy up in its vortex. After a couple of seconds, it disappeared again, leaving behind a much changed teddy bear and an ancient Klingon Bat'telh.

The bear blinked and shook its furry head. It's paw tightened around the bat'telh. It _remembered_.

***

Lt Warren Keffer checked the navigation readout and turned his starfury around for another pass. "Unidentified object?" he was thinking, "probably just a meteorite and someone's panicked." Then he saw it.

Smack! Against the viewscreen.

Keffer jumped, muffling a startled cry.

"Theta One, have you encountered the U.O.?" the tinny voice of Babylon Control asked again. "Can you describe it?"

"Negative Babylon Control, "Keffer responded, getting his adrenaline under control as he watched a small, cuddly bear in a baseball cap crawl slowly up the glass. He grinned to himself and added under his breath "Not on a bet." He took the controls back from the computer and headed back to the launchbay.

Unseen, clinging tightly to the starfury with one frozen paw, Ba-bear-lon 5 travelled back to the station with him, a Klingon Bat'telh clutched in his other paw.

***

Slowly but surely - rarely can a small bear without a space suit travel at great speed - the bear made his way to the top of the star fury, to a vantage point where, unseen, he could clearly make out space station from which he was ejected such a small time ago. A small time? For this bear it was a lifetime ago. A lifetime during which he had acquired consciousness and memory. And with this consciousness and remembering came desire. And this desire's name was ..._vengeance_.

The starfury glided effortlessly into the station. Keffer, like the rest of the population of Babylon 5, was utterly oblivious to the presence of the bear. Sheridan had probably forgotten the bear the moment he had flushed him ignominiously from the airlock in Green Sector. Ivanova had no doubt stopped thinking about him as soon as Sheridan had removed him from the relative safety of her clutches (could it really have been barely two hours ago?) just before ... well, perhaps it would be better not to dwell on what occurred after that. Keffer, of course, had seen him hit the viewscreen of his starfury, but in his reluctance to report what he had seen had pushed the bear out of his mind. It could scarcely have occurred to him that a small furry toy had become sapient, and was holding on - as best a bear without fingers and opposable thumbs can - to the roof of his ship. No, suffice to say, this bear, who in terms of his consciousness was barely two hours old, was a _forgotten_ bear. _Somebody is going to suffer,_ he thought as he clutched the bat'telh - which by this point had become oddly comfortable in his paws - even tighter.

Movement through the station proved surprisingly easy. He had noticed when he made his way through the bar that some of the customers, on noticing his presence, appeared slightly unsettled and looked accusingly at their drinks (and their barman). However, most went back to their drinks almost immediately with little more than a quizzical shake of the head. He noticed in passing a few oblique asides about `pink elephants' which he failed to understand. No matter. He was still a young bear, and age would no doubt bring wisdom.

His only worrying encounter - the one which he thought at the time would have him flushed immediately out of another airlock - was when he walked past security chief Garibaldi in a corridor in Green Sector (how familiar it all seemed to him). Garibaldi looked him square in the face with an expression the bear found hard to decipher - it looked to his young and inexperienced eyes like a combination of surprise, confusion and mortal terror. The expression changed to one of calmness a later as Garibaldi began to walk away. The bear managed to hear him mutter something which referred to not having had a drink in months. _Poor man,_ thought the bear, _he must be ever so thirsty by now._

Presently, he came upon a familiar door. Yes, he remembered it well. Behind the door lived Captain John Sheridan, the man who had so callously and with such malice aforethought consigned him to the cold and darkness of space. In this room, he had sat quietly, while on the chair by the viewer, whilst Sheridan had removed his coat, muttering darkly about "goddam souvenirs". Minutes later, of course, he had been hurtling out of the Green Sector airlock. Again, he ran his paws along the edge of his bat'telh - _yes,_ it was _his._ It was rather too large for such a small bear, but it had the feel of battle to it - it felt like a _warrior's_ weapon - and he was deriving an almost sensual pleasure from the feel of its cold metallic edges. It felt good. It felt _right._

The immediate practical advantage of possessing such a large weapon became clear - he could reach Sheridan's door chime unaided. He pressed the chime.

"Yes ..." murmured a weary sounding voice from inside.

***

The bear opened the door, and found himself face-to-face with his quarry.

"So, Sheridan, throw me out of an airlock would you?"


End file.
